I'M GONNA GO BMV!!!!!!

In case you couldn't tell, I had a bad run-in with a Government Agency we affectionately know as the Bureau of Motor Vehicles. I love going in to wait in a line outside in 45 degree weather at 8:40. I was there actually about 8:20 waiting... the place opens at 8:30 I reassured myself, looking at the sign on the door. I can imagine the enjoyment of the 20 some odd fellow human beings who waited with me. I fgured, renewing a license plate sticker is a snap! I just need my registration card.

I get inside and I'm the first one who requires a number. No problem. A couple minutes later, I am helped by a young gentleman who informs me I need my policy number for my insurance. I didn't even get that in the mail yet... "Oh, you need to change your address? Do you have your license?" "Well, I have nothing on my person that qualifies that, sir, seeing the BMV commissoner and his associates are taking a fine time processing my license on account of my immigration status." "Well, you need to come back with your policy number and your address change document."

My blood pressure assumes a healthy 145/70 range in the run of life. At this point it is about 160/79.

I drive back. Get my piece of paper the BMV issued me as a temporary permit to drive. "Hey! It has my address! They gotta take it!" Called the insurance place, got my Policy number, no problem.

I return to the BMV building to be asked at the desk, "what are you here for, sir?"

"I need to renew my registration"

"Will you be changing your address?"

"Yes ma'am and here's a piece of paper one of your officials issued me a month or so ago."

"No sir, that won't do. We need an electronically issued bill."

185/82 "WHAT!?! ... I'll be back..." I utter through clenched teeth and thoughts of going on a ballistic rampage.

I left so mad. I thought, the next epidemic in America is going to be irate vehicle owners who have to put up with the shit they call BMV protocol. I cleverly thought to myself, "instead of going postal, I'm going BMV!"

I need air. I need time. I need to cool my jets lest I make an ass of myself in public (not an uncommon occurance regardless).

After some wise counsel, I tried the machine at the grocery store. Why, the machine doesn't need proof of my residence... it doesn't need proof of anything. If I can rattle off my SS# and license plate, I'm golden! Five minutes and $32.00 later, I have a new sticker for my plate!

God bless America! We have machines to make life easy! And on top of that, you just need to be an idiot to work at BMV. You have to be fleixble too, cause it takes quite the agility to be able to stick your head up your ass. Am I bitter? Not anymore!

Unbelieveable!!!